Les Ombres Grandissent
by bluinary
Summary: This is a story of how darkness can consume, how God can seem cruel, how time will pass, and how red can be more than just a color. It's the story of Mikasa Ackerman's shadows, and how they grew until Eren Jaeger could no longer see her. (Red Riding Hood AU, eremika) (cover by art-gh0st on tumblr)
1. Part I

**Background Music:** /blubick/collections/les-ombres-grandissent

 **Disclaimer:** _Attack On Titan and its characters belong to Hajime Isayama. I own nothing but my writing._

* * *

 _-the creek-_

"Jump in!"

Mikasa frowned at the boy in the water. He'd gotten his trousers soaking wet; she knew for a fact that his behind would burn as soon as his mother found out what he'd done. She wasn't keen on sharing the experience with him.

Thus, Eren's shouts of encouragement fell on deaf ears. He gave up on them after a few more, staring at her feet as they swished in the creek.

"Its boring in here without someone to play with," he complained.

Mikasa sighed. "Why didn't you invite Armin along?"

"He can't swim, and he doesn't care to learn yet. Besides, he wanted to read his stupid book. But nevermind him, you're right there, and you can swim just fine. Come down with me."

"You're mother'll have it when she sees you," Mikasa warned him.

"That's none of _your_ concern, is it? Not like she's _your_ mom."

Mikasa fiddled with the skirt of her dress. "But my mom'll have it, too, if I end up looking like you."

Eren barked out a hardy laugh, one too rough and masculine for a boy as young as he, but natural, all the same.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he challenged. "You saying I'm ugly?"

Mikasa hesitated. What a stupid question. What a thing to ask when your hair and clothes cling to your body, glimmering droplets adorning them like tiny gems. When lines of light swim across you as the water dips and sways around itself. When your hair is the color of chocolate and your body is lithe and graceful and your eyes are like that of a kitten's, sharp and enormous and full of wonder, and they hold the entire ocean, vast and sparkling, in their irises.

But Mikasa said "yes", anyway, because she knew it would make him laugh. And it did.

"Well, Miss Ackerman," Eren replied with mock-indignation, "not everyone can be born with looks like yours. That _gorgeous, long, flowing, silky_ black hair of yours could be sold for a good sum of money, I tell ya. And that face- you could be a doll, I swear. Those rose petal lips of yours, and those ginormous black eyes- agh!" Eren clutched at his heart and fell into a backfloat. He opened his eyes and fixed his gaze upon her, grinning. "You're going to have your pick of the crop, Mikasa. Don't be cruel to the less fortunate."

"You're the cruel one, you liar," Mikasa muttered, her cheeks burning. Eren didn't seem to hear her. He flipped himself over and swam to the edge of the ground, right next to her, resting folded arms atop the mud.

"That's a nice dress," he said. "Your mom make it?"

Mikasa glared at him suspiciously. "...yes," she answered.

He grinned wickedly back. "That's nice of her. Now, wouldn't it be a shame if something were to-"

"Eren, _don't_ -"

Before she could say much, Mikasa was pulled from the ledge and into the water.

"-happen to it?"

Eren burst into laughter. Mikasa shoved him underwater, smirking when he came up gasping.

"The hell was that for?!" he sputtered.

"Revenge," Mikasa answered simply. "You're lucky I didn't take it any further. I was ready to punch you in the throat."

"I'd kick your ass if you did," he retorted.

"Is that a challenge?"

"You bet-"

Eren's words turned to a shocked yelp. Mikasa yanked him backward and grabbed a fistful of his hair, pinning him to the ledge with her foot. He kicked and swung wildly to escape her grip, but remained pinned.

"Fine," he choked out. "You win. You win."

Satisfied, Mikasa released him.

Eren didn't miss a beat. Mikasa barely had the time to blink before she was trapped between his arms, his palms digging into her shoulders.

"Gotcha," he chuckled.

She glared at him. "This doesn't hurt, you know."

He gave her a funny look in return. "Of course it doesn't. I wouldn't hurt a girl. My mom would beat my ass."

"Then what were you trying to accomplish?"

"Well," he started, eyes trailing upward in thought, "I guess to prove I could win something."

Mikasa snorted. He clearly hadn't thought this through.

"What would that something be, Eren?"

He paused, obviously at a loss. Mikasa waited for his reply, her devious little grin growing wider and wider.

And then, he leaned forward and kissed her. Just a peck, no longer than a few seconds, but a kiss, nonetheless. Mikasa stuttered.

When Eren pulled back, he looked about as startled as Mikasa felt. His eyes dug into hers with mild panic, asking her questions he couldn't find the answers to.

After a moment, he looked away. "Sorry," he said quietly. He removed his hands from her shoulders.

Before Mikasa could even begin to consider what an appropriate response would be, there were shouts from behind them. She and Eren both scrambled out of the creek, certain it was his mother.

But it wasn't. A short, dark-haired man emerged from the wood. As soon as he saw them, he jogged the short distance to the creek. Mikasa stiffened at the sight of him.

"What's Mr. Levi doing here?" Eren murmured to her. "I thought you said he was out of town."

"He was," she confirmed.

Her cousin was just as she remembered: sour-faced and low-voiced, with the unmistakeable scent of alcohol and tea soaked in his skin and hair.

He smelled more strongly of the former than the latter today. Eren made a slight face and took a step back.

"Mikasa. You need to come with me. Now."

He sounded urgent and authoritative, and it made him rather terrifying. Mikasa reached back and took Eren's hand.

"Why should she?" Eren asked, trying to keep his voice even. "What are you doing here?"

Levi shot him a sharp glare. "Family matters, boy. Mind your own business."

"Family matters?" Mikasa repeated. "Is it about my parents?"

Her cousin hesitated. "...yes," he said, rather quietly. After a dubious look from Mikasa, he took a deep breath and knelt down to meet her eyes.

The creek rumbled and babbled as he said it. The wind rushed through the canopy of leaves above them. Birds sang to themselves. Mikasa's toes dug into the thick mud beneath her. Eren's grip on her hand tightened.

"They're dead, Mikasa."

* * *

 _-black-_

Everything was so dark.

The umbrellas, the dresses, the suits, the coffins, the sky, her house, the dirt, their faces, her eyes.

The world was a mass of black the day she said good-bye.

It was a closed-coffin funeral; apparently, their bodies had been grotesquely mangled, nearly unrecognizable. Mikasa ached to see them just one more time, but no one would allow her to. It'd give her nightmares, they said.

What they didn't know is that she'd already had nightmares, ones where she was running through the woods, barefoot and soaking wet, as her parents screamed her name. The wood never seemed to end. Mikasa would trip and fall, her parents' screams fading, and the ground would open up, and she would fall into the creek and drown. Cousin Levi's cold eyes would regard her harshly as she inhaled water and mud. She would wake, gasping and crying, and Eren and Armin would be lying beside her, holding her tightly.

I wasn't there, she'd sobbed, every night since that day. I wasn't there.

Today felt like those nights, but with the added embarrassment of being the victim, the poor little orphaned girl.

Eren and Armin, dressed in their finest slacks and suspenders, their hair combed neatly, stood as Mikasa's barrier to the outside. Levi followed the three like a shadow. They spoke to no one.

They sat through the hymns and the tears of strangers, until it was time for the eulogy. Grudgingly, Levi stood and made his way to the front of the lot.

"My aunt and uncle were good people," he said quietly. He didn't meet the eyes of the crowd. "Maybe the best of us Ackermans. And I'm not great with words, but I can say a few things.

"My aunt- she was so smart. And my uncle, stupidly kind. They took me in when no one else would or could. They gave me a place to sleep and food to eat, even with a daughter of their own and a business to run. They didn't deserve to die, but that's just how the world is. The worst doesn't discriminate. It can happen to any of us. And sometimes, it decides to fuck over the kindest. And all the rest of us can do is sit back and blame ourselves, or seek justice, or live in fear of it happening to us.

"But if there's anything we should learn from this, it's that the world will keep turning. We're still alive, and there's not much we can do about it, so we might as well make ourselves at least somewhat useful. Might as well try our hand at living a life we won't regret when our time comes."

He took his seat. The crowd clapped. He tapped Mikasa's shoulder. She turned.

"That was for you," he told her. "They were your parents, not theirs. It was for you."

Mikasa looked away. "Thanks," she murmured, turning back around. Armin and Eren both scooted closer.

* * *

Even when the funeral ended, and everyone retired to their own houses. Even when night fell and Armin and Eren fell asleep, and rain began to pound on the roof. Even when Mikasa curled into a ball on the floor and began to cry.

All she could see were closed coffins and black umbrellas.

Everything was so, so very dark that day. Mikasa wondered if she'd ever see anything in color again.

* * *

 _-time-_

It passed. Mikasa ran out of tears. Her old, haunted house was made accessible again. Levi became her new guardian. They restarted her father's bakery.

Most things didn't change. Eren and Armin still dragged her outside, rain or shine, day or night. She still went to school with them, and was second in her class to Armin. She woke early every day, like always, and delivered pastries to the townsfolk. Like always. Most things had been left unaffected by the ordeal.

But one thing did change.

She didn't smile.

* * *

 _-warm-_

It was her fifteenth birthday. Eren and Armin were having a snowball fight. She watched them giggle and yelp. Eren turned to her and jokingly asked for assistance.

"Not today," she answered, her voice as quiet as usual.

Eren and Armin shared a look. The darker of the two marched over to her and took her by the hand, pulling her up.

"Hey-" she said, "I said not to-"

"If not today, then when?" Eren shot back, grinning. Mischief glinted from his eyes and his bared teeth.

Mikasa faltered. "It's too cold right now," she muttered. "Maybe when it's warmer."

Eren rolled his eyes and removed his scarf. "Please," he scoffed, wrapping it around her neck. "That should be enough to keep the cold out."

All she could do was gawk at him, at his dead-seriousness and the soft look he gave her, at the feeling of his gloved hand enveloping her own.

"Consider that a birthday present, by the way," he said. "Red looks good on you."

"It does?"

"Yeah. I like it."

For the first time in a long time, Mikasa felt a tug at the corners of her mouth.

Nevertheless, she never let it grow into anything more than that. Cold or not, she wasn't ready to tempt fate just yet.

* * *

 _-red-_

Poinsettias, spices, candy cane stripes, ribbons, fireplaces, papercuts, Santa suits, and cherry pies.

All the world was red Mikasa's 16th December, and the bakery was busier than ever.

"I don't like you going out in the dark," Levi said gruffly one night over supper. "Never have. You could be shot, kidnapped, run over-"

"Run over by what?" she interrupted.

He gave her a steely look. "Horses," he stated simply. "Lost men in carriages. Anyway, no one can see you when it's dark out, and it's dangerous."

"What would you prefer I did, cut my delivery hours?"

"Maybe hire some help."

"Who would we hire?"

"Eren would make good time."

"He's busy chopping wood."

"Tell him to quit."

"He's an only child, Levi. If he quits, his family business dies."

"What about Armin?"

"He can barely make it to town without passing out. There's no way he'd make a good delivery boy."

Levi sighed in exasperation. "What about that boy in your class, Jean Kirschtein?"

Mikasa made a face. "Annoying, and he runs the inn. His mother's not in good health."

"Sasha Braus. I hear she's a hard worker."

"She's also an only child. We have to get our meat from somewhere. Besides, she'd eat all the goods before she was halfway there."

"Connie Springer. He's quick on his feet."

"And busy supplying us with ingredients."

He let out a frustrated huff and stood, gathering his dishes. "Well, we have to do something. You know very well that you're a possible target-"

"It's been six years-"

"Kenny is ruthless-"

"He'd never recognize me-"

"He has his sources-"

"You're so paranoid-"

"And I have every damn right to be."

The older of the two looked as though he were ready to kill someone. And he probably was.

"You find a way to travel safer," he said, "or you stop delivering. That clear?"

She gritted her teeth.

"Crystal."

* * *

Christmas day came. There was a knock on the Ackerman's door. Eren and Armin stood behind it, their rosy cheeks bunched in great grins, their arms full of treats and neatly wrapped gifts.

"Come in," Levi sighed. The boys might as well have been his wards, too, they spent so much time in his house.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Levi," they greeted cheerily. He mumbled back a greeting and turned toward the staircase.

"Mikasa!" he called. "Eren and Armin are here!"

Seconds later, she was dashing down the stairs and plopping two wrapped boxes down on her friends' laps. The three gladly tore into the taffy and cookies and candy canes their parents had made as they tried to decide on who would open their gifts first.

Armin was chosen, in the end. He'd gotten new books (from Eren and Mikasa both), a new sweater (hand-made and monogrammed by Mrs. Jaeger herself), and a sturdy pair of suspenders (bought by Levi, who insisted it was Mikasa's idea).

Eren, who was already wearing his own new Christmas sweater, recieved a telescope (a hand-me-down from Armin's grandfather), a brand-new axe (again, a gift from Levi, who'd all but disappeared from the scene), and an etiquette handbook (from Mikasa, who rolled her eyes when he objected).

Finally, it was Mikasa's turn. The boys grinned widely. She had only two boxes, one bigger than the other.

The first box, of course, held her monogrammed sweater. She pulled it on, asking Eren to give his mother her thanks.

The bigger box was next. Mikasa studied Eren and Armin's eager expressions.

"We put our entire allowance into it," Armin said. "Saved every last penny."

"Took a lot of chopping and housework, but it was worth it," Eren added. "Now go on. Open it."

Mikasa obliged, and pulled out a beautiful, masterfully made, cherry-red cloak.

The fabric was heavy, rough on the outside and lined with fur on its inside. At the neck were two silk ribbons to tie it together. A large hood hung from its back, buttoned straps hidden on the inside. For covering her mouth, Mikasa guessed.

"This is lovely," she said, and it was so hard not to grin back at her boys. "Thank you both."

"We know Mr. Levi's been on your back about safety," Armin said. "Since it's red, you'll be more visible at night."

"And red's your color, isn't it?" Eren beamed at her. "As soon as we saw it in the shop window in town, we thought of you, and we knew we had to get it."

That broke her. Mikasa suppressed her smile, anxious to tempt fate, scared that if she showed how happy she was, the world would take away her boys, Levi, her job, everything. But the warm feeling in her chest had to make itself known, somehow. Before she knew it, Mikasa was crying.

"You don't like it?" Armin's voice was soaked in heavy disappointment.

"No," Mikasa insisted, her voice thick, "I do like it. I love it. It's more than lovely, it's fantastic, and you two are so important to me. Thank you, for everything."

Without a word, Eren and Armin both enveloped her in a hug.

Apple spice cookies, candy cane stripes, a fireplace, a wrapped gift, an old scarf, a new cloak.

Red was her color. Red would always be her color.

* * *

 _-blooming-_

Not the next spring, but the spring after that, Armin became an astronomer's apprentice. His friends didn't see him quite so often, anymore.

For the first month or so, Eren moped, while Mikasa simply missed him. But once some time had passed, the former of the two began to fill the space their brilliant, blond friend had left behind with his idea of adventure.

"Good morning, Little Red Riding Hood," he would chirp, matching Mikasa's quick strides with his axe resting against his shoulder. "What are we delivering today?"

"Bread," Mikasa would answer, or, "None of your concern."

And he would ask to sample some, and occasionally she would let him, and he would always tell her they were delicious, and then invite her to join him at the creek, or to a trip into town, or to climb a very large tree.

"Not today," she would say every day. "Sorry."

And that evening, he would show up at her door and pester her until she had to leave for her next round of deliveries. Then he would join her, again.

"You're a lucky girl, to have such a loving beau," Mrs. Kirschtein sighed once. Mikasa flushed and corrected her. Mrs. Kirschtein didn't seem to believe her objections.

"You're a cute bunch," Sasha Braus once giggled, when Eren had snatched Mikasa's cloak. Hastily, the two insisted that they weren't a "bunch" at all, but Sasha didn't listen.

"Some girl you got," Jean Kirschtein muttered bitterly to Eren. Eren didn't object this time, only too happy to be making him jealous.

"I don't deserve her," he agreed smugly, suppressing a laugh.

"You don't," Jean growled. Eren ignored him.

* * *

Eren turned eighteen that month, just thirty or so days younger than the girl in the red riding hood. His father told him he was a man. Eren didn't believe him; he was certain he was still a child.

Nevertheless, he couldn't ignore the overwhelmingly adult feelings blooming within him, as vibrant and obvious and lovely as the wildflowers sprouting in the woods. Feelings that stretched toward his childhood friend Mikasa, as though she were the sun. They painted scenarios in his daydreams, in the things he imagined before he fell asleep at night. He would see himself holding her hand, or playing with her hair, or kissing her neck, or- well- other things.

And the image that popped up the most often, the one that sent thrills down to his stomach and set his face on fire, was a specific one.

He saw Mikasa in a white gown, clutching a bouquet of flowers to her chest, a veil over her face. Her lips, colored crimson for the occasion, were stretched into a smile he missed very, very much.

He hadn't forgotten what he'd done that day at the creek, or how it had felt. Not since it had happened. And time had pressed against the flower buds that had sprouted then, opening them into the feelings he had now.

Eren, at eighteen years old, was in full bloom, and in love with Mikasa Ackerman.

* * *

 _-special delivery-_

"Old Man Arlert is dying."

The news cast a spell on the town, one of hushed families and solemn, folded hands. Armin Arlert I's name was added to the prayer list in church. Few dared to knock on his door, and even fewer once Armin Arlert II made it clear he wasn't welcoming guests at the time. The boy had never been a frightening one as long as the townsfolk had known him, but suddenly there was something threatening and horrifyingly empty in his pale, drawn face and his lean, stretched-out body.

"He gives you this… this hollow look," Jean Kirschtein said quietly. "Like he's the one on his deathbed. His eyes are purple underneath. His lip is busted, and there's no color in his face. His hair sticks up like he never combs it, and he practically whispers everything. Until you overstep. Then he yells."

"You overstepped?" Connie Springer asked, the hairs on his arms raising.

"I thought he'd let me in," Jean murmured. "He's one of my best friends. I thought he'd…...he screamed at me."

"Screamed?" Sasha Braus gasped.

"Screamed," Jean confirmed. "He said, 'I can't do this today! Not today, not tomorrow, maybe not ever! He's leaving me, Jean. And he's taking a piece of me with him. I can feel it. Part of me is dying. I don't have room for your petty chats, not any of you. Your condolences, your pity, your sickeningly false tears. Keep them all away from me. Get off of my porch, Jean.' And I did. And I haven't even heard from him since."

"Mikasa?" Sasha frowned at her. "Are you okay?"

"I have to go," Mikasa answered. "Thank you for lunch, Sasha; it was delicious." And with that, she rose and left, as quick as the almost-summer breeze fluttering at the ends of her cloak.

* * *

Pastries were a small and silly gift to give to someone as frantic as Armin must've been, Mikasa knew, but she didn't know what else to do. All she could offer were her condolences, her empathy, her presence, and her pastries. She prayed it would be enough for him. She didn't want Armin to feel the same things she'd felt. No one should have to experience what she had, but Armin least of all.

By the time she finished, it was dark out. Eren hadn't come over. She was sure he'd already gone to visit. It was possible he hadn't returned yet.

Levi came down the stairs just as Mikasa had pulled her hood on. He gave her a long look, as indecipherable to her as any expression he made.

"Be safe," he told her, "and let them both know I'll be there within the week."

"Yessir."

Before a minute had passed, the front door was shut behind her, and she'd already taken her first steps into the silent, moonless night.

 _ **-end part one-**_

* * *

 **AN: Part one of three (I think...maybe longer...why do I do this to myself?). Inspired by tumblr user lolakasa's lovely art.**

 **Writing this took a fuckton of southern gothic music and listening to Sacred Heart by the Civil Wars on repeat for at least an hour. A special thanks to natiwati for betaing me (seriously, this story's quality would've been half as good without her help).**

 **Part two is already written and revised, so expect it soon!**

 **Please review!**


	2. Part II

_-the woods-_

The woods are a scary place after dark. Even to Mikasa, who knows them better than anybody. No amount of knowledge or confidence can stifle the feeling that something is watching you, something hidden where you'll never find it.

Her steps were light and swift, soundlessly leaving their tracks in the soft earth below. She kept her hood pulled low over her face, an odd chill brushing the hairs of her arms. Goosebumps grew, despite the rather warm air. Mikasa ignored them and kept a steady stride, her lips pursed and her grip tight on her basket.

Something snapped behind her.

She stiffened, whirling around, muscles so tense they shook.

Nothing.

She turned to the left, her eyes digging between the trees. Nothing.

She turned to the right and scanned the forest floor. Nothing.

With near-panicked hesitation, she turned back around and forced her legs to move, beginning to ease herself back into the rhythm she'd been keeping.

 _Plenty of things live in the woods,_ she reminded herself sternly. _Squirrels. Rabbits. Foxes. Deer._

 _Bears, too, I suppose, but when's the last time I've seen one? Never. I have never in my life seen a bear closer than a few miles away. And none have after taken after me. I am fine. I will be safe. It is a short trip to Armin's. Eren's waiting for me there. Eren will be there._

Something rustled. Her heart stopped. Her legs stopped.

 _Eren is waiting._

Her legs moved.

 _Eren is waiting for me there._

They moved faster.

 _I'll see him there. I'll feel his arms around me._

She began to jog.

 _I'll see his smile._

She began to sprint.

The inky night sky dripped over the girl in the red riding hood, the trees towered and whispered, things snapped, things rustled, she could've sworn she heard footsteps other than her own, but they were too quiet, drowned out by her heart slamming in her chest, her thoughts roaring in her ears, Eren's name clouding her hearing, Eren's smile blinding her so she couldn't see how the world loomed over her, hungry and sinister.

And then, before she knew it, the toes of her boots were lined up at Armin's door.

It was awfully quiet. No light shone from the windows.

"Of course it's dark," Mikasa murmured to herself, turning the knob. "Someone's dying inside."

* * *

- _hollow-_

A few clumsy stumbles after closing the door behind her, Mikasa found a lone candle flickering in the next room. She rushed to grab it, and then lit all other candles she could find nearby.

"Eren!" she called, hoping she wasn't waking anyone from their sleep. "Armin? Mr. Arlert! Is anyone home?"

Her voice sank into the wood of the walls. It was as though she'd shouted into a hollow box. Her skin began to crawl again.

"I..." she faltered. "I brought...pastries..."

Someone grabbed her hand.

Their arm barred Mikasa's shoulders.

A knife was pressed to her throat.

"How sweet," they said. "But it's all for naught. The old man's dead."

Mikasa's heavy breathing hitched.

"Wh...why," she choked out. "Ro...bber...?"

"Think again, Princess. You're talking to your good ol' Uncle Kenny."

* * *

 _-breaking-_

A rather pathetic, mangled yelp of terror escaped Mikasa's lips. The knife pressed further against her skin.

Kenny laughed, and the sound was ugly and ragged, like someone had ripped up his vocal chords. "I'm sure my dear nephew's told you some stories. It's an honor to meet you in the _flesh_."

He drew a line against her neck with the blade, pressing just hard enough to draw some blood. Mikasa whimpered.

"You're the spitting image of your mother, you know that? I feel like I'm seeing her for the second time. But funny thing is, you still look like an Ackerman. Like my sister. Like her son. It almost makes me want to spare you."

To Mikasa's confusion, he paused. She could've sworn she felt the blade shaking, just a little bit, against her neck.

But it stopped soon enough. Kenny's voice returned, harsh and resolute as his hot breath filled her ear.

"But I won't. I've got a job to do, and that Rod Reiss- he's a son of a bitch if I ever saw one. The prick would pull out my fingernails if I let you go free, and then kill you himself, in the slowest, most painful way he could think up. He's a sick bastard like that."

Another beat of silence passed. The blade did not tremble, but its pressure softened. Kenny took a deep breath.

"Y'know, Mikasa, I was there when you were born. I held you when you were less than a day old."

More silence. Mikasa's vision was blackening at the ends.

"Your father and I were close. I puked my guts out when I killed him. Cried myself a river."

The darkness began to burn her eyes.

"I spared Levi," Kenny continued. "Couldn't do it to him. Practically my goddamn son. Would've gone mad. Reiss thinks he's dead. I killed some other poor motherfucker instead, gave Reiss his corpse. Did little for my conscience, but at least it wasn't him."

"L...et...go... _please_..." Mikasa gasped, unable to stand it any longer.

Silence.

Her words curled in her throat, rang in her ears, in Kenny's. It was pathetic. Small. A plea.

 _Please._

 _Please, please, please._ _Please!_

Kenny let go abruptly. Mikasa dropped to the floor, wheezing.

Ragged breaths wrung her lungs, barely escaped the tight passage of her throat. Reflexively, she brought a hand up to her neck.

Blood.

Wet, warm, slippery. The color of her hood. The color of life. Oozing. Staining. Red.

"I tried," Kenny exhaled angrily. "I had the whole fuckin' act down. The sick bastard who gets a kick out of killing his own family. I was this goddamn close!"

His hand slammed down on a nearby table. Various dirty dishes clattered. She jumped.

For a moment, her eyes scoured the stain on her hand, seeking the clean hints of pale skin that peeked through the crimson. Was this what her parents saw before they died? Was this what she would see before it was her turn?

Was this it?

Years of never tempting fate, of being careful.

And this was what it all came down to?

Kenny pointed a bony, blood-crusted finger at his niece. His face crumpled.

"And you! You ruined it all, with a single goddamn word!"

Mikasa shuddered, weakly trying to scramble backward. Kenny's eyes blazed.

And then they fell.

And he fell, too, to his knees, staring at the rug beneath him.

"All you had to do was say 'please', and I broke. I can't kill you, kid. Not another one. I can't do it. I can't slit another throat. Not for Reiss and his obsession with us. Not even to save my own skin."

There was another silence.

Mikasa staggered to her feet.

Shakily, she stumbled over to him.

Picked up the knife he'd dropped.

Grabbed his shoulder, possessed with terror, anger, bitterness, and shoved the knife into his stomach.

Her next words, hoarse and slow as they were, were dripping with malice.

"Too bad...you didn't break...when my parents...said so."

Her uncle twitched, gurgled. Blood bubbled from his mouth, bathed his lips. He grimaced. The oozing choker on her neck matched the fabric of her cloak, the spit he coughed up to her face.

Blood on her cheek.

Red on snow.

Rage, rage. She trembled with it. Burned.

And she collapsed beside her dying uncle, in the house of a dead man, blood soaking her cloak, her skin, her hands.

She cried until darkness enveloped everything she might possibly see.

Until, for the second time in her life, the world was pitch-black.

* * *

 _-asleep-_

When Eren and Armin returned from their walk, they found two dead men and a sleeping girl.

Armin, who'd just been coerced into a near-stable state of mind, was thrown out of any sort of stability he'd managed to scavenge. He screeched and held his grandfather's head against his shoulder, rocking back and forth, sobbing.

Eren scooped up the girl in the red riding hood and shook her, noting the cut on her throat and the bloodstains in the floor and the strange man beside her with a knife in his gut.

He held her head to his chest, fingers brushing against her face, searching desperately for any signs of life. His stomach lurched.

"Wake up, Red Riding Hood," he whispered. His eyes began to well up. His voice became thick. "Wake up, Mikasa. Please. For me."

She did not stir.

Tears began to fall. "Mikasa, wake up, for god's sake!" he shouted. He shook her. "You can't do this to me, Mikasa, you-"

A sob seized his voice. It bounced in his diaphragm, endless and consuming. It crumpled him from the waist up. He broke down over her, his Little Red Riding Hood, the girl he'd kissed in the creek, the girl he'd dreamed of marrying someday.

"Please don't be dead," he begged, and he was so quiet. "Please just be sleeping."

 _-light-_

"Eren."

He opened his eyes. Looked at her.

"Mikasa?"

"Eren's waiting for me," she murmured, her eyes still closed. He could hardly hear her.

"You're- you're alive! Oh, my god!"

"He'll wrap his arms around me."

He grabbed her hand. "I will!"

"I'll see his smile."

"And I'll see yours!"

"And he'll make it all go away."

He stopped.

Her lips turned upward in the slightest of smiles.

"The sun...he makes all the darkness go away. He's so warm...I don't know what cold is."

"Mikasa."

"He makes me want to laugh."

"Mikasa."

"He makes me want to smile."

" _Mikasa._ "

"He makes me feel like I'm alive again...like darkness doesn't exist..."

Eren pulled her into the warmest, most secure hug he could muster.

Her eyes fluttered open.

"...Eren?"

"I love you, Little Red Riding Hood," he whispered.

She sank into him. "And I love you, woodsman," she mumbled. Her eyelashes dampened. "I have for a while, haven't I?"

Her eyes caught his smile, his blinding, relieved smile. The only thing in the world that was real.

Eren pulled her to his chest, cradling her head, holding her so, so close to him. Her lids flickered, heavy with sleep.

 _It was all a dream,_ her heart told her. _It was all just a bad dream._

* * *

 _-dark-_

But it wasn't.

"I killed him," she whispered. Nausea began to creep into her gut.

"I don't care," Eren said.

"He spared me, and I killed him."

Her words were tiny. Shaky. Her mouth felt dry.

"You had every right to."

She pulled away from him, shaking her head furiously, and was unable to pull her eyes away from her hands.

Crusty. Stained.

She matched her uncle.

"Oh, god."

Her words wavered. She began to tremble all over.

Eren reached for her, grabbing her hand, hoping to calm her down, but she snatched it away from him. Looked him in the eyes.

They searched her face for answers, as they had that day at the creek. Answers he couldn't find himself. Answers he wanted so desperately.

Answers she never had, and never would.

There was blood on his chin, blood on his hand as it reached for her. From when he'd held her.

And that's what did it.

That's what sent her legs flying, sprinting out the door and into the night she'd been so terrified of moments before.

Away from Eren, away from the light of the house, away from her basket and fallen pastries and her grieving friend and their dead relatives.

All she had now was the darkness. And her cloak.

Her bloody, stained, flittering red riding hood.

Eren clambered after her, shouting her name, but soon enough, his foot caught on the root of a tree, twisting at a painful angle, and he fell to the ground.

Armin, who'd managed to collect himself once he'd realized his house was empty, soon found him. Breathless, injured. He helped him back inside, despite his adamant protests.

After that, neither of them saw Mikasa Ackerman for a long, long time.

* * *

 _ **-end part 2-**_

* * *

 **AN: Part two of five, for sure this time. This story turned out to be much longer than I'd anticipated.**

 **Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews! I appreciate you guys's feedback so much! To that one guest reviewer who couldn't speak much English, don't worry. I'm very glad you told me you liked it, regardless of the length of your message, and I look forward to hearing from you again!**

 **Again, a billion thanks to Nat for betaing this. As an added note, if you like Eremika and mind-blowing writing, I'd check out her fics here with the username natiwati. I'm sure you'll enjoy them.**

 **Please review! And a belated happy new year!**


	3. Part III

_\- temps -_

* * *

Without fail, it will always pass. And things will continually change with its passing.

Armin became the town recluse. He never left his property. Not for a festival, not for a funeral, not even to get himself some groceries. Townsfolk speculated about what he did in that house of his, some theorizing that he was working on a way to resurrect the dead, some sneering that he probably spent his days staring at a wall. But no more came of it. They could only speculate, after all.

Levi closed the bakery, and the Braus family opened one of their own. He spent most of his time in the woods. Most thought he hunted and fished and sold his goods in another town. If they'd bothered to take a closer look, they might have realized that he was searching for his lost ward. That he had no money, and he lived off of Carla and Grisha Jaeger's charity. That he was restless, obsessed with finding the last other Ackerman alive. That he would stop at nothing to bring her back.

Eren didn't quit his family's business, if only for his parents' sake. But he did tag along on Levi's late-night trips into the woods. He, too, was restless, and desperate to find her. He, too, would stop at nothing to bring her back.

This fact didn't change, even as everything else did. Years passed, and Levi's skin began to wrinkle, and Armin grew thinner, and Eren's face lost all traces of baby fat. But he still had dreams where she was soaked in blood, running from him as though he were the most terrifying thing she'd seen in her life. He still heard her voice in his head, memories drifting back to distract him every so often. He could still see the silly, romantic little vision he'd obsessed over the spring she left, where her lips were red and her smile was bright and they stood together at the altar.

Eren's springtime may have been long gone, but he hadn't wilted. Not yet.

* * *

\- _après tout ce temps -_

* * *

Armin Arlert II was twenty-three years old when he finally left his property and made his way through the woods to see his best and only friend, Eren Jaeger.

He found him bundling wood, crouched down, humming a little song to himself. Armin, for the first time in a long time, found himself smiling.

"Eren!" he exclaimed.

Eren fell over with a shout that sent the birds above flying. And then he was gaping, dumbfounded, at the pale, spindly man before him. He marveled at his terribly messy hair, which came down to his waist, even in a ponytail, and was startled by his bright, stark blue eyes.

"...Ar…Armin?"

Armin offered him a hand. "In the flesh, believe it or not," he piped.

Eren took his hand and helped himself up. "God, how long has it been?" he exhaled, scanning him over. "How the hell are you out of your house?"

Armin's smile widened. "Redundant as it might be to say so, that's why I'm out of my house. You see, I have an idea, Eren."

An eyebrow was lifted. "An idea?"

Armin nodded. "Yes- well- more of a proposal, really. You see, I was reading one of my grandfather's old books for the millionth time- you should see my annotations, they're such a mess- and then, out of nowhere, it dawned on me: we should go west!" He paused, splaying out his hands for emphasis. Eren's brow scrunched.

"...West," he repeated flatly, incredulously.

"Mm-hm! West!"

Eren pushed his sleeves up, noting how cold the weather had been turning as of late.

"And what makes you think this is such a great idea?"

Armin practically bounced where he stood. "Oh, I was hoping you'd ask! So in the book I was reading- it was actually a list of biographies of my ancestors, and I was reading it because I remembered my grandfather reading it to me when I was very young, but he'd never finished it- it said that the Arlert family originally came from Queen Rose's country, west of Queen Maria's country, and that- at least in the biography of my great-great-great aunt, now deceased, bless her- they still lived there! Do you know what this means, Eren?"

He frowned. "You want to trek all to way to Rose's country? On the slight chance you may have family there?"

Armin shook his head. "No, Eren, you don't get it. Don't you remember what my parents said when they left in that silly hot air balloon of theirs? They said they were going to see the world, didn't they?"

Eren's frown deepened. "Yes...but what does that have to d-"

"Eren, they haven't returned in _eighteen years._ "

"Armin, they're _dead_."

Armin pointed a stern finger at his friend. " _Presumably_. But they went west when they left. They wanted to start by seeing all three parts of our land, from Maria to Sina. What if they decided they couldn't cross the ocean in their balloon? It's not like my family was rich or the like; there's no possible way they might have afforded a boat. When they left, they were giddy, Eren, excitable, and young, close to our age. It's entirely possible they miscalculated, and went back to Rose's country to live with the rest of our family to save themselves the embarrassment of admitting to my grandfather that they'd made a mistake."

Eren's face wrinkled. "You really think they'd be that stupid?"

Armin laughed. "I know so, Eren! I'm the same way! Prideful, arrogant, cowardly. It's so in character!"

"What about you? You don't think they'd at least find a way to get you back?"

The town recluse scoffed. "Pardon my French, Eren, but my parents didn't give two shits about me. Even before they'd decided to leave, they treated me more like an experiment or a plaything than their child. They gave me reading assignments, rather than bedtime stories. When I asked for a hug, or to sleep in their bed because I'd had a nightmare, or to sit on my father's shoulders or in my mother's lap, you know what I got? A stern look from my father, and even less from my mother. My grandfather had to parent me, even when my own parents were in the same room. It'd be less than surprising to find they completely abandoned me to save their own pride."

"Then why even look for them?" the woodsman exhaled, frustrated. "What's it going to add up to?"

Armin's rather sardonic guise slipped. His eyes grew sharp, and they cut right into Eren.

"Why do you and Mr. Levi still search restlessly for Mikasa? I hear you two every night, calling to one another. I see the light of your lanterns out my window. Every single night. Why? If it's been five years, why? If she left by her own choice, why? Why do you still look for her?"

Eren dropped his axe and moved forward in one swift, heated motion. Before Armin knew it, he was on the ground, staring at his best friend, his tailbone aching where it had hit the earth, shirt ruffled where callused hands had shoved him.

Still, he pressed further.

"Why do you do it, Eren? Use your words. Tell me. Why?"

"You _know_ why!" Eren exclaimed, his face reddening.

Armin's eyes narrowed. "Do I, now?"

"You do! Don't pull this on me, Armin, I don't have the-"

"Yes you do! Say it! Tell me, Eren, why you're so hung up on a lost cause! Tell me, you coward!"

Both of their faces had turned bright red. A muscle in Eren's jaw twitched. Armin's breathing had become labored.

A chilly gust of wind brushed through their path. Eren rubbed his arms, his face softening, and sat down.

Armin did not relent.

"You still love her, don't you?"

Eren stared at his hands.

His friend leaned forward. "Even though she ran away from you. Even though so much time has passed. Even though you may not even know who she is anymore, or if she feels the same way, you love her. And that's why you can never give up, right? That's why you're so goddamn restless, why you scour the woods obsessively, hoping to at least find some trace of her. You can't help yourself, can you?"

"Shut up," Eren muttered. "You don't know anything."

Armin pounded his fist against his thigh. "No, Eren, I know _everything_. Five years of my parents' disaffected stares, then eighteen of their absence. Alive or not, they left me by choice. Me and my grandfather. Then he dies. Now I'm alone. It's all their fault. But, insanely enough, after all this time, all I want is to-"

His voice thickened. His eyes welled up.

Swimming blues clung to the ground, tears blurring his vision.

"All I want now, Eren, is to see them again. I'd give _anything_ just to show my father how tall I've gotten, to show my mother how intelligent I am, to hear them say my name, to talk about whom I look the most like. Because, even after everything they've done to me, I still love them. And I still need them. Pathetic as it may be, I do. I'd trek all the way to Rose's country on the slight chance they might be there, just as you would search every night after a long day's work on the slight chance you might find some sort of clue she left behind.

"Do you get it, now, Eren? Do you understand why we need to go west?"

Eren met his gaze. His best friend's eyes were red.

"Why do you need me to come along?" he asked, frowning.

Armin smiled, and it was the smile of the boy who couldn't swim, the boy who needed his friends to keep Jean Kirschtein from taking advantage of him, the boy who ran into passerby because his nose was in a book, the one Eren had known for so long before he'd left to pursue his future.

"I can't do very many things without you by my side," he admitted. "You should've figured as much by now."

Slowly, Eren felt himself smile back. He stood again, offering his hand. Armin took it and helped himself up, dusting off his tea-stained slacks.

"Funny thing," Eren said, turning to gather his bundle again, "I always thought it was the other way around."

Armin laughed, crouching to take his axe for him. "Then you'll come along?"

Eren tousled his hair, the dirt from his hands mixing with the tangled mess. "I think I've missed you too much already to say 'no'. Now, let's head back to your place."

"My place? But what about your-"

"The wood'll be fine. We need to fix you up before anyone else can witness this monstrosity."

* * *

 _c'est l'amour, c'est la mort -_

* * *

"You're doing _what_?!"

Carla's voice nearly cracked, it rang so high.

Her son flinched, not meeting her eyes, no longer touching his food. "We're going west," he repeated, "to Rose's country."

Carla shook her head adamantly. "No. Winter is coming all too soon, and poor Armin just left his house for the first time in years, he must be so weak-"

"I am perfectly fine, Mrs. Jaeger," Armin assured her. "As a matter of fact, this is my idea."

Carla blinked at him, baffled. "But you'll catch your death of cold out there! I understand you're the man of your household, Armin, but I absolutely cannot allow you to hike all the way to Rose's country with the state you're in, even with Eren's help. You both could get hurt out there, and I can't bear the idea of losing either of you, especially with Mikasa-"

"Mom," Eren interrupted. He leaned forward and took her hand. "We'll be fine."

She curled her lips pensively, her eyebrows knitted in distress.

Her son cupped her cheek with his hand, brushing away strands of her hair from her face. "Mom, we'll be fine," he repeated.

She sighed, leaning into his touch. "How do you manage to look so much like your father?"

Eren grinned. " _Someone's_ got to keep you calm when he works late."

She tried not to grin back, instead dropping her gaze to her bowl. "Lord, I remember when you were my spitting image, with your chubby cheeks and your enormous eyes. I had to hold your hand when you walked. And now, you're leaving the country…"

Eren's hand dropped. "It's not forever," he assured her. "I swear, Mom, I'll be back. I'll come back in one piece, no matter what it takes."

She kissed him on the cheek, ruffling his hair. "Alright, sweetheart. I believe you. But _you_." She turned to Armin, who started, his spoon clattering back into his bowl.

"M-ma'am?" he stammered.

"One cut," she warned, "One smudge on your pretty face, and you'll be hearing it from me. Is that clear?"

Armin daren't snort. "Yes'm," he answered.

Carla's smile returned. "Come here," she invited, opening her arms. Obediently, Armin rose to meet them. She stroked the ends of his hair and chuckled.

"How on earth did it get so long?" she wondered quietly. "And when did you get so tall?"

"Time flies, doesn't it?" Armin smirked.

She sighed a long, sad sigh."Unfortunately so. But such is life. And such is death."

* * *

Though Eren's father was little more than surprised with the boys' decision, Levi was about ready to throw a fit.

The old bakery was chilly, and smelled of smoke. A cold, forgotten cup of tea sat on the worn coffee table. Levi's eyes had bags beneath them. His gaze was sharp.

"You're telling me," he said, "that you're just going to disappear? To another fucking country? For the hell of it?"

"To help Armin find his family," Eren protested. "Not for fun."

Levi glowered at him. "What about Mikasa?"

"I'll be back," Eren assured him, "and then we'll keep looking for her. You usually do most of the work, anyway."

"What if you get hurt? Who's gonna save you?"

Eren scoffed. "Please, Levi. I can handle myself."

"Whatever happened to the 'mister'?"

The younger of the two gave the older a funny look. "I stopped calling you 'mister' when you decided I was old enough to drink with you."

Levi's eyes blazed. "Maybe I don't think so, anymore. You're still just a kid. Maybe you should just stick to chopping wood, and stop helping me look for Mikasa, and wait until you're actually grown to pull shit like this."

Eren stood. "Look, I'm not asking for your permission. I just wanted to tell you. That's the polite thing to do. If you're going to throw a tantrum about it, I'm out of here."

"Eren, you're _just a kid-"_

"Oh, am I? I suppose you were just a kid when you ran away from your uncle, or even before that, when you helped him kill people! I guess you were too young for any of that to really have happened, right? It was all made up? You were just telling me fairy tales the night you spilled all that shit out on me? Is that how it is?"

Levi stood, too. Despite being nearly a foot shorter than his younger partner, he emanated venom and intimidation. Eren tried his best not to shrink backward.

"Just because life shat all over me when I was your age doesn't mean you have to tempt it to do the same to you," Levi hissed, his words heated and scathing. "Do you know how many people I've lost in this life, boy? Do you have any idea how much it hurts? My mother, my disgusting uncle, Mikasa's parents, and now her! Are you going to do the same to me? You and Arlert? Are you two really so goddamn selfish to leave me when everyone else already has?"

Levi's entire body sagged. He sat back down onto the sofa, exhaling, his head in his hands.

Eren blinked at him in astonishment.

"Levi, I-"

"Shut the hell up," he murmured. "Forget what I said. Go on your stupid trip. I don't give a fuck. I'm too tired to give a fuck."

There was a moment of silence.

Levi heard a clicking sound.

Of course. The latch of a door. It was a noise he was so familiar with, the silent tune of wordless goodbyes. He sunk lower into himself, seething. Being accustomed to losing people didn't make it any easier to bear.

Then something began to roar.

He started, snapping his eyes toward the kitchen. Eren had pulled out a kettle and started a fire in the oven.

Levi's brow scrunched. "Jaeger, what do you think you're doing?"

"Making us some tea," Eren answered simply. "Your cup was cold, right?"

Levi suppressed a smile, trying his best to appear as gruff as usual. "Don't you have to get ready for your trip?"

Eren shrugged. "We're not leaving for a few days. Right now, I'd just like to chat with you. If that's alright."

"I don't see a problem with it," Levi murmured.

In his voice, Eren could detect the slightest of smiles, the subtlest of hopes. He was his companion, his friend. And he only wished him the best; he knew that. He'd seen him grow, seen him learn, seen him lose and seek what had been taken from him- from them. They'd been partners for years, finding solace in the traces of Mikasa that reflected through the cracked, murky shards of their beings that her disappearance left behind. Opposites in many ways, in one thing they were equal: both loved, and had lost, the girl in the red riding hood.

"While you're at it," Levi groaned, shifting in his seat, "grab some liqueur from the cellar."

Eren didn't bother to hide his smirk. "Only if you're sharing."

Levi caught the expression, and didn't fail to return it.

"Don't I always?"

* * *

That evening, Eren didn't join Levi in their regular search. Carla insisted he and Armin both get enough rest, prohibiting Armin from returning to his own house for the same reason.

"There's nothing but woods for a few days," she warned them. "Some nights, you may not have the luxury of sleep. Stock up on it while you can."

When Eren protested, Grisha gave him a tired look.

"Listen to your mother," he said simply. Eren pouted the rest of the night, because that was that.

"I'm moving out as soon as we get back," he told Armin after his mother had scolded him for burning candle light. "I'm too old for this."

Armin simply hummed in agreement, because he could not relate.

What he'd give to be in Eren's shoes. To have a mother fuss over him, a father to chat with about work and adulthood, an older brother figure like Levi to spend his time with.

Even the attention he was getting at the moment, secondhand as it was, was heaven to him. He felt almost happy again.

* * *

 _\- bon voyage -_

* * *

The next few days were a blur. Eren and Armin woke early and planned furiously, hiking back to the latter's house for plans he'd made previously, as well as maps and research.

Both poured about half of their life's savings into their supplies. The townsfolk, if they hadn't already been shocked by Armin's presence, were definitely stunned when they saw the amount of supplies the boys were stocking up.

"Holy cow," Sasha Braus gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth. "Is that you, Armin? It's so good to see you! My god, your hair's grown so long! And you boys want….. _how_ many traps?!"

* * *

" _Whoa!_!" Connie Springer exclaimed, nearly dropping the bundles of crops on his shoulders. "Armin Arlert and Eren Jaeger?! Here?! Where the hell have you two been?"

Eren blinked at him. "Connie, I just saw you last week," he reminded him. "For lunch? Remember?"

Connie's ears reddened. "Oh- yeah. Sorry, I forget you're not Jean sometimes. But you! Armin, what happened to you?!"

* * *

They wouldn't have run into Jean Kirschtein if he hadn't spotted them outside his window and dashed outside himself.

"Armin!" he yelled, "Eren! Wait!"

The two stopped, turning to him, startled.

"We're kinda in a hurry, Jean," Eren said, pressure in his tone.

Jean waved at him dismissively. "No. Shut up. I need to tell you something, Armin."

Armin frowned at his old friend, unpleasant memories bubbling back to the surface of his mind.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice tight.

"I'm-" He sighed. "I'm sorry. For overstepping. I should've known better."

Armin gave him a smile in return. It didn't reach his eyes.

"I'm the one who should be apologizing," he said quietly. "It was childish of me to take out my misery on you. You were just doing what any good friend might do."

A relieved grin spread across Jean's lips. "Can I see you for lunch tomorrow?" he asked, the hope in his voice all too prominent. "I have so much I want to tell you about. It's been too long since we've talked."

Armin's smile fell. "I wish I could, but Eren and I are about to leave for a trip. A rather long one."

Jean rubbed his chilled knuckles. "How long is long?"

Armin glanced at Eren, who gave him a light shrug.

"Maybe a year or so," he said, and his voice was close to a whisper.

Jean took a deep breath through his nose, nodding somberly.

"When you come back, then," he said. "For sure."

Armin put a hand on his shoulder, offering another smile, this one more genuine.

"Of course," he told him. "It's definitely been too long."

Jean gave him his old smirk in return.

"Cut your hair while you're gone," he said teasingly. "You're going to make women jealous."

Armin chuckled, rolling his eyes, and waved good-bye. He and Eren continued on their way.

Jean watched their retreating backs before hurrying back inside to check on his mother. It was getting cold out, he'd realized. This wouldn't do her health any good.

* * *

The morning of their departure, Eren and Armin scarfed down the breakfast Carla had prepared for them. She and Grisha both tried their best to make light conversation at the table, despite the fact that neither of them were eating. It was for naught, as the boys were eating too quickly to have much time for chatter.

Once they'd cleaned their plates and dropped them into the washtub, Eren and Armin planted a kiss each on Carla's forehead, and then accepted an awkward, but sincere hug from Grisha.

The boys left before sunrise, heavy knapsacks slung over their shoulders.

* * *

\- _**end part three -**_

* * *

 **AN: Part three of five. I hope you all enjoyed this segment. A special thanks to Nat, AGAIN, for helping me with this story bc holy shit this would've been nothing without her help.**

 **Please reblog, comment, and/or review (in AO3 or )!**


	4. Part IV

_le bonhomme hiver -_

* * *

Old Man Winter is a spiteful soul. He sinks into nature's robes slowly at first, as though he plans to settle into his skin gradually, as though he's going to give the world time to get used to him. Then he takes a deep breath, filling his stomach with air, and blows the mightiest wind he can muster, chilling the Earth within a week. Before most can get over their initial shock, the trees have lost all their leaves, and a thin blanket of white covers the ground.

A mere ten days after their initial departure, Eren and Armin found themselves huddled over as they walked, hands tucked snugly into their coats. The former wasn't quite as bothered as the latter, who could hardly keep his lips from trembling.

Fires were difficult to start in this weather, but not impossible. Still, each night, Eren would frustratedly curse at the bare branches above him, at the moon, who watched him, but did not help. Armin would pace frantically, chattering, "C-cold, cold, cold, it's-s-so c-c-old, cold…."

If they couldn't manage to get a fire started, the two decided it was better to keep moving, regardless of how exhausted they might have been.

* * *

 _mes pieds brûlent -_

* * *

Suns rose; suns set. They kept moving, uphill and downhill, over rocks, roots, and dung, their steps silent in the thickening snow beneath them, their calves and soles burning with nearly every step. The tip of Armin's nose grew pinker and pinker. Eren's lips became chapped, nearly bursting with every encouraging smile he tried to offer his exhausted friend. Their throats rang of soreness, aching any time they talked. A metallic taste took residence in their mouths. It became harder to take breaths.

Every rest was heaven. Their feet cried out in relief any time they sat down, and groaned in misery when they stood again. Both grimaced at either noise, but didn't bother to complain. They didn't have the energy to afford such a luxury.

* * *

 _\- nous sommes perdus -_

* * *

They'd stopped to eat. Armin chewed his bread slowly, thoughtfully, before hurriedly pulling out their maps. Eren watched him as he ate his own bread.

"How many days have we been walking?" Armin asked, his mouth was a strange tone to his words, one that twisted Eren's stomach into knots, for some reason.

"Not sure," he answered curtly. "Maybe three weeks. Probably less. I haven't been counting."

"Neither have I," Armin sighed. "But since the moon's in a gibbous shape right now….you're not far off. We've been walking for close to a month. But that would mean…..oh, god."

Eren's jaw tightened. "What is it?"

Armin grabbed a fistful of his own hair, his eyes flittering with panic. He looked at Eren.

"Eren's we're off course. Way, way off course. Look." He showed him the map, tracing a gloved finger down a thin line. "We went down the wrong path."

Eren shook his head. "No, that's impossible," he said. He pointed to a landmark near the line. "We passed that a few days ago," he said. "Remember?"

Armin frowned. "Then why is the river so far away? It's on the other trail, but it says the river is the end of the forest…..but my grandfather's annotations also said if you pass that tree you're going the right way…..how old are these maps?"

"Doesn't matter," Eren said. "Who made them? Did they leave any extra notes? Maybe we're reading them wrong."

Armin flipped the page over, scanning for any print he might've missed. Soon enough, he found some.

"Unfinished," he read. "Rough draft."

Eren swallowed. Armin dropped the armful of papers he'd been holding, digging his fingers into his hair, rising to pace back and forth across the ground.

"I can't _believe-!_ " he exclaimed. "How could I have made such an obvious mistake?! Eren, we're lost!"

Eren raised an eyebrow. "Can't we just go back the way we came? The map's got that much right, doesn't it?"

Armin stopped, removing his hands from his head. "As a matter of fact, it doesn't."

"What do you mean 'it doesn't'?" Eren asked incredulously. "We followed it here, didn't we?"

"I didn't follow the map completely," Armin admitted. "At some points it didn't make sense, and I didn't want to bother you with it because I know you can't read maps all that well, so I- I tried to fill in the gaps."

Eren's face darkened. "You _what?!_ "

"I'm so sorry, Eren, I should've known from the start that it was a draft, I'm such an idiot-"

"How the actual living hell are we supposed to get out of here?!" he bellowed. "Grow wings and fly?!"

"I don't know!" Armin cried back, shrilly. "I didn't mean to- I'm _sorry_!"

" _Sorry_ doesn't get us out of this godforsaken forest, Armin!"

"I know it doesn't, I know that, I just can't- I can't do anything but apologize."

Eren forced himself to quit glaring at his friend, if only because he knew he was right.

Armin sat down. Eren followed suit.

A moment of tired, dreadful silence settled over them.

It was only when the wind had started to turn unbearably chilly that Eren asked, "What now, then?"

Armin met his eyes, took a deep breath, and answered, "We keep going west."

* * *

 _dépit de le bonhomme hiver -_

* * *

Old Man Winter is senile. He is bitter. He takes pity on no man. Not the beggar, not the fugitive, not the weariest of travelers. He sees them all and laughs at their misfortune, his icicle teeth glinting as they're bared.

 _You should've hidden when you saw me coming,_ he sneers. _You're a fool to think I'd spare you._

As the days dragged on, the skies darkened. Armin's skin turned dry and pink. Eren's heels were chaffed where his boots ground against them. The air bit relentlessly at their skin and throats and joints, freezing them in place if they dared to quit moving.

 _Dance for me, travelers,_ Old Man Winter seemed to chuckle. _Dance, or die where you stand._

So they danced, and danced, and danced, the aching fire in their muscles pushed to the back of their static-filled minds. Their eyes grew glassy. Their smiles grew sparse. Words became rare between them, replaced with solemn looks and tired gestures.

Every now and then, Armin would glance hopelessly at the sky. The moon would occasionally peek through the clouds, a sliver of shy light glimmering amongst the thick black swirling above. Just enough to remind him she still existed, but never enough to tell him how long they'd been walking, how much time had passed since they'd stranded themselves in this graveyard of trees.

And thus, he decided they would just walk forever, that there was no real beginning and no real end to their journey. That they were Sisyphus, damned to push the boulder up the hill over, and over, and over again. For the rest of eternity.

"We're in Hell," he whispered one night, as Eren was drifting off. "This is our punishment, Eren. For losing her. For letting her slip out of our hands. This is our damnation."

"I thought her absence was the punishment," Eren murmured, hardly audible against the wind's howl.

Armin swallowed, staring blankly at the sky.

"Do you ever pray anymore?" he asked.

"No," Eren answered.

"Neither do I. Maybe that's why."

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Do you really think God might hate us?"

Eren's washed-out, hollow green eyes fixed themselves on his friend's hands, folded and shivering.

"I think we're just miserably stupid," he answered. "And, God or not, this is what we get for it."

"I think I agree," Armin said.

He couldn't seem to remember a time when his words had sounded so vacant.

* * *

 _quand allons-nous mourir -_

* * *

Every day.

Every night.

Each time they woke.

Each time they slept.

When their traps were empty.

When they could not light a fire.

When their bodies screamed for them to stop.

When their muscles begged them not to move.

When the moon hid from them completely.

When Old Man Winter cackled in their ears.

They asked:

 _When?_

 _When are we going to die?_

* * *

 _dieu leur répondit -_

* * *

And then, one night, they heard something growl in the bushes.

They stiffened, eyes growing wide, breaths turning ragged.

"Gather the traps," Eren murmured. "Quickly."

Armin obliged. Eren stuffed their sleeping bags back into their sacks, his heart thrumming in his ribs with every noise he made.

The growling grew louder.

The boys scrambled to their feet.

"What do you think it is?" Eren asked.

Armin began to back away from the trees. "Could be a wolf," he answered. "It may have a pack close behind it."

"Should we run?"

"That's our best chance."

"Which way?"

"Wherever we can."

"What about going west?"

"We don't have the time to pull out a compass and wait for it to still. We leave now, on the count of three. One…..two…...three!"

They darted away. The growling turned to snarling. Something burst through the trees. And then another thing. And then another thing. Neither of the boys dare turn back, or even yelp, focusing all of their energy on moving their legs across the snow, trying their hardest not to let their feet sink into it.

Alarms rang in their heads as their feet flew. Adrenaline pumped their arms, even as the wind scratched at their skin and through their let no thought guide them but the rhythmic, pounding command to _run, run, run._ Directions did not matter. Nothing mattered but survival.

And inevitably, yet all too soon, Armin began to wheeze.

"I can't…." he panted desperately. "Eren….I can't! I can't…...keep up!"

Without a word, Eren scooped him up, groaning at the added weight, and tried his best to resume his pace. The snarling and barks had become even louder in the time he'd stopped.

"Hear…...river….." Armin managed. "Right! Go…...right….!"

"Why?" was all Eren could offer as a response.

"Maybe…..cross…"

"Cold!"

"Best…...chance….or…..leave me….."

With a frustrated shout, Eren dutifully turned right.

The pack was growing terrifyingly close.

Above the ringing and rushing of blood in his ears, Eren began to hear the river. He put all he had, all his focus, into upping his speed, his face contorting into a terrible grimace.

" _STOP!_ " Armin shrieked, and Eren opened his eyes to the ground below them, but it was too late.

They fell, screeching.

Off the drop.

Into the water below.

Eren kept his hold on Armin as they surfaced, sputtering, their lips turning blue, the current shoving them back and forth violently, knocking their breath away.

"Eren!" Armin gasped, clinging to his best friend, terror buzzing throughout his skull, "I can't swim, _I can't swim!"_

"I got you! Hold onto me!"

The current ripped between them, nearly breaking them apart. Both shouted in alarm, reaching frantically for the other. Armin began to dip below the surface. Ice washed over his face.

Eren's hands shot out to grab him, to pull him back up, just as another wave of water slammed against his chest, dunking him under.

The cold began to seep through the adrenaline in Eren's system. His skin burned, tightened as he tried desperately to pull himself back up, back to the air.

When he managed to, he chattered, "A-a-armin!"

"Y-yes?"

"D-d-d-damned if-f y-you d-d-die, h-h-hold b-breath, _s-s-sw-w-im_!"

Armin shook his head frantically, sobbing as he kicked to stay up, coughing as water spilled down his throat.

"C-can't!"

Eren braced himself as another wave tried to push him under, pulling his sinking friend up once more.

" _T-t-try!_ "

" _C-c-an't!_ "

Another wave came, this time knocking itself into the side of Armin's head. He sank again. Eren dove after him, just as the current threw itself against his back, rendering him breathless.

The last thing he saw before inhaling ice was Armin's face, tinted blue and stretched with panic.

Then his vision went dark, and the cold disappeared.

* * *

 _ **\- end part four -**_

* * *

 **AN: Part four of five.**

 **First and foremost, I want to say that this work was inspired by lolakasa's beautiful art, and, again, I apologize deeply for not mentioning so earlier.**

 **Secondly, again, I thank Nat for betaing! I had a lot of fun writing this, and she hands down made the entire experience 100% better. I couldn't have asked for a better editor (type person).**

 **And, please please please, reblog this. This took me so long to post because I legitimately thought not enough people cared for it to be worth the trouble. If you like this story, please. Reblog, or even comment/ review on or AO3.**

 **Thanks!**


	5. Part V

_le ruisseau -_

* * *

In the creek, his lips pressed against hers lightly, innocently.

And, as he pulled back, something warm hummed in his chest.

* * *

 _c'est chaud -_

* * *

Something warm pressed against his chest.

He coughed, water spewing from his mouth, gasping.

His eyes opened to a room bathed in buttery, golden light, flickering against every possible surface.

It was warm.

A hand brushed against his forehead. Instinctively, he reached to grab it, but it slipped through his grip as soon as he felt skin.

"Rest," whispered a feminine voice.

It sounded so familiar.

Eren tried to sit up, to turn, to face its owner, but as soon as his head was lifted, it felt heavy as lead. He let it drop back into the pillow, groaning.

His eyes scanned the wooden ceiling blankly, his ears barely registering the roar of a nearby fire.

All he could hear was that voice, echoing through his mind.

 _Rest,_ it crooned. Gently, softly. Lovingly.

 _Rest._

* * *

When he woke, white light poured through a window to his right.

He sat up, his head still heavy, but bearably so. His legs swung away from their place on the bed, dangling over its edge. He hopped down. His feet, clothed in socks that weren't his, met the floor.

Below the window lay another bed of similar size to his. The sheets were ruffled, but fixed so that the bed was, technically, made.

Something glimmered against the rumpled pillow case.

Eren stepped forward, his eyes straining against the object's reflective light, until he was close enough to understand what it was.

A blond hair, long and relaxed.

"Armin," he exhaled, and he began to run, out the door, shouting the name of his best friend, not bothering to notice the large amount of doors he passed in doing so, or even the cluster of uniformed women that began to follow him, asking him to stop.

It wasn't until his legs gave, sending him sprawling across the floor, that he seemed to realize he wasn't alone in the hallway.

The women gathered around him, collectively asking if he was alright, helping him back to his feet.

"I'm fine," he assured them, his breaths labored. He leaned into one of them, the poor woman nearly stumbling under his weight. "Just….where am I?"

One of them, a rather pretty lady with caramel-colored hair, offered him a soft smile as she answered.

"Le Foyer Inn," she said. "You must be so confused."

Eren nodded. "I am. Last thing I remember is drowning…..in the river…."

The woman's mouth twisted in pity. She waved a hand, maintaining eye contact with her guest. The other women dispersed reluctantly.

"We heard you and your friend's shouts a few nights ago, and took you from the river just as you'd gone under," she explained. "The both of you gave us quite a scare; we were sure we'd come too late. Your friend woke within a few minutes, thank the Lord, but _you_ -"

Eren's heart skipped a beat. "Friend?" he repeated, his eyes wide. "Do you know where he is now?"

The woman blinked, astonished. "Oh….he's in the dining hall, I believe. But please, sir, let me help you get th-"

Abruptly, Eren took her hand in both of his. "Thank you, Miss. I'll see you again soon, I'm sure."

He started on his way, nearly falling over again. She hurried after him, calling, "Sir, please, you're not well yet!"

He stopped. Turned to her.

"Where is the dining hall, exactly?"

She sighed in amused exasperation, taking the opportunity to catch up with him. Eren was startled, but unsurprised, to find his arm draped over her shoulder, her arm supporting him from the chest up.

"I'll show you, sir," she answered once he'd leaned his weight on her. They started on their way.

"What's your name?" he asked her.

"Petra. Petra Ral. And yours?"

"Eren Jaeger."

"That's a lovely name, Mr. Jaeger."

"I could say the same to you, Miss Ral."

She gave him a strange look. "No need to call me 'Miss', sir. I'm a maid; you're a guest. Just 'Petra' is fine."

He grinned lopsidedly at her. "Alright, then, Petra. You can just call me Eren."

Petra made a face. "I'd rather not, sir."

"Well, I'd rather you did."

* * *

Petra had to keep her guest from bolting forward once he'd caught sight of his friend.

"Armin!" he shouted, struggling against her secure grip.

Armin's back straightened as he scanned the room wildly for his best friend. When he finally found him, he jumped up from his breakfast, breaking into a sprint, a blond waterfall streaming out behind him.

"Mr. Arlert!" started an employee, reaching after him.

Armin threw his arms around Eren's shoulders, laughing ecstatically. Eren hugged him back tightly, nearly crushing him.

"You're alive!" Armin cheered. "You made it! _We_ made it!"

"I thought we were goners!" Eren agreed, catching his excitement.

"We weren't!"

"Does this mean we're not as stupid as we thought?"

Armin pulled away, shaking his head and chuckling. "It means we're so stupid that God

felt sorry for us and granted us mercy."

An incredulous giggle bubbled from Eren's stomach. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to start praying again."

"Damn straight you are!" Armin agreed. "I've already got my start on it, blessing my food before I eat!"

The two burst into a fit of laughter, clapping one another on the back, their faces flushing, tears of relief springing to their eyes.

Petra turned to the astonished butler. "Marco," she called. He jumped.

"Um, yes ma'am?"

"Prepare Mr. Jaeger's breakfast, please."

He glanced at the guests once more before nodding. "Yes, ma'am," he said, hurrying back to the kitchen.

* * *

\- _omelettes et expériences de mort imminente -_

* * *

"I thought you wouldn't make it," Armin admitted once they were both seated, combing his hair behind his ears before picking up his fork again. "It only took the staff a few minutes to get me breathing right. Then they hauled me off to this doctor's room to give me medicine, while someone was still trying to get the water out of your lungs. When they finally did, you still hadn't opened your eyes, and you still weren't breathing deeply enough. They didn't answer me when I asked if you were going to be alright. I was so scared.

"Then, out of nowhere, nearly an hour later, they said you were perfectly fine. I asked how they knew, and they said some random maid had gone in to check on you, and you'd opened your eyes, and you were breathing just fine. And just about everyone in the room relaxed. The doctor fed you your medicine while you slept, saying you had a fever. You never opened your eyes. I was still a little worried, if I'm being honest. I didn't know how well the medicine would work on you. But here you are, so I suppose it worked well enough."

His lips turned upward into something reminiscent of a smile, trying to mask the restlessness he must've felt, the gnawing anxiety in the pit of his stomach, the tears he had to have spilled.

Eren took a big bite of his omelet, chasing it down with some water, before responding. "I'm sorry for making you worry," he said.

Armin shrugged. "I should've known better than to do so," he dismissed. "Lord knows you'll always find a way to keep irritating me. Even if it takes a miracle."

Eren snorted, taking another bite. "Got that right. I'm here as long as you are, like it or not."

Armin wrinkled his nose at him. Eren imitated the expression, an amused hum following it.

* * *

 _jours de récupération -_

* * *

Eren's temperature rose and fell as it pleased, which worried the staff, Petra more than anyone. For this reason, he was quarantined to his room, with nothing but a few books to read, to his heavy irritation. Doctor Zoe would check up on him a few times a day, feed him his medicine, and remind him to rest and drink plenty of water. He would nod absent-mindedly, and Dr. Zoe would skip out of the room with a chipper "See you soon!"

Armin spent his time in the innkeeper's library, which was open to all guests, strangely enough.

"There are no towns for miles," Marco explained when Armin inquired him about it. "The innkeeper supposes he can only read so many books at a time, and that his guests could use the entertainment."

Mr. Smith had supposed correctly. Armin was only too fascinated by his collections, content to spend hours in the nook by the library's smallest window, skimming over Mr. Smith's annotations, tracing his fingers along the worn print.

Doctor Zoe, it seemed, also found sufficient entertainment in Mr. Smith's books. Armin saw her, along with a few other guests, scattered across the library almost daily.

When Armin would return to his and Eren's room, for the first few days of their residence, Eren would ask him when he thought they would be heading off.

Armin would avert his eyes and say, "I think we should focus on getting you better, first." Then he would change the topic.

Soon enough, Eren decided that, as long as he was still sick, it was pointless to ask.

* * *

 _seulement toi -_

* * *

Some nights, when Armin stayed late in the library, and Eren fell asleep in an empty room, he would have extremely lucid dreams.

Ones where the girl in the red riding hood held his face, stroking her thumb across his cheek, a faint smile gracing her lips.

She would sing a song, something close to a lullaby, under her breath. Its tune was sweet, enough so that Eren would feel himself begin to sway with its rhythm, but achingly wistful, all the same. It reminded him of days spent alongside a delivery girl, pestering her as she took quick strides and gave curt answers, blushing as townsfolk teased them. It reminded him of a springtime he'd once known. A springtime that had ended long ago.

When he woke, he would try to recall the melody of her song, if only to fill his terribly empty room with some noise, but he could never seem to get it right. Of all things, he could only seem to remember a single phrase:

 _Only you._

And when books bored him, and Armin didn't return for lunch, and Petra couldn't be bothered to stay and chat, Eren would hum those few notes to himself, over and over.

"Only you," he'd sing, enjoying how the words felt in his mouth. "Only you."

* * *

 _le visage de la mort -_

* * *

A few days after his temperature settled, Doctor Zoe gave Eren her permission to leave his room.

The first thing he did was visit Armin in Mr. Smith's library. Armin, oddly enough, turned pale when he saw him.

"Y-you're out of the room," he stammered.

Eren raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Yeah, I am. Doctor Zoe gave me the OK."

"She did?"

He nodded. "Indeed, she did. So, now that I'm better and all, I have to ask: when do you think we're gonna head off? We've lost enough time here, don't you think?"

Armin hesitated. He closed his book, making sure to mark it, and turned to face his friend.

And, before he'd said a word, Eren knew what his answer was going to be.

"I don't think we'll be heading off anytime soon."

"Why not?" Eren's voice had lost any trace of relaxation.

Armin took a deep breath.

"Eren, you and I almost died out there," he said quietly. "If it hadn't been the river, it would've been starvation, or disease, or a wound, or one of those wolves. It was a terrible mistake to go into those woods on such short notice. If we'd waited longer, we might've noticed that the map was a draft, or found a better, completed map to replace it."

Eren rolled his eyes. "But that's all in the past," he said. "We made some mistakes. So what? That doesn't mean we should quit. I mean, what about finding your parents? Or the rest of your family?"

"I don't give a damn about them if it means losing you," Armin snapped. Eren flinched.

Armin took another deep breath, this time to calm himself, before continuing.

"It was a stupid idea to try and make this journey," he said, "and an even dumber idea to head off as soon as we thought we could. In our haste, we left unprepared, just as winter was settling in, and we spent a whole two months wandering aimlessly in the cold, with barely enough food to sustain us. If we're going to leave, we're going to wait until we know where we're going, and then we're going to wait until this dreadful winter ends. I don't know about you, Eren, but I'm just not keen on the idea of dying or losing my best friend out there when we just escaped that exact fate."

Eren, for once, was speechless. Armin's eyes pierced through him, a colder, icier blue than he was used to.

"I would grab myself some lunch if I were you," Armin advised him after some time, opening his book again. "The kitchen's closing in half an hour."

Defeated, Eren nodded and walked away. Armin watched the pale light from the window wash over his retreating back before turning back to Mr. Smith's annotations.

Ironically enough, the first note he landed eyes on read, _I agree with Greene here. Failure should not make us afraid, but more resilient. It should fill us with determination, make us eager to confront our problems again. I believe any other ideal to be too timid and, frankly, rather cowardly._

* * *

Shaking his head scornfully, Armin reached into his pocket, hoping his pen was still there. He smiled delightedly to discover it was.

 _Sorry to scrawl on a book I don't own,_ he wrote, _but Mr. Smith, you and Greene are both wrong. The naivete of your ideologies make me wonder if either of you have ever tried to put them into practice._

 _After all, Mr. Smith, once you see the face of death, you find yourself paying every possible expense not to see it ever again._

* * *

 _une lettre anonyme -_

* * *

When Eren returned to his room, tired and mildly irritated, he found a crisp, white envelope sitting on his recently tidied bed.

 _Oh god,_ he thought, the tips of his ears burning, _it must be about how sweaty my sheets are. Shit._

To his delight and confusion, the letter was not about his sweaty sheets.

Far from it.

 _Mr. Eren Jaeger,_ it read, _if it's not any trouble, I ask you to make yourself scarce in this inn. I saw you walking around the dining hall, and the sight of you brings me pain. You remind me of someone I used to know._

 _I understand that Dr. Zoe has allowed you to leave your room as you please, but there is not much to do here, anyway. It won't make much of a difference if you stay in your room or wander around. It's unlikely to ease your boredom._

 _However, if you feel you must make your presence known, don't let me stop you. I'm simply asking a favor, is all._

 _Have a pleasant stay._

The letter was unsigned. Eren frowned at it in astonishment for a moment.

Then he reached for the nearest pen, placed the paper on his nightstand, and wrote.

 _Mr./Ms. Stranger,_

 _I think I agree with you when it comes to easing my boredom. An hour out of my room wasn't any more interesting than an hour in it. Stretching my legs did feel nice, though._

 _Still, I'd hate to cause anyone pain. If it bothers you that much, I think I can stay in my room, for the most part. But on one condition only._

 _If I stay in my room, you have to write letters to me, and slide them under my door for me to read. I only have my friend Armin and a maid named Petra to talk to, and they're always away. But if you'd be willing to keep me company, I think I'd be a little less bored._

 _Take your time to think about it. Just know our deal isn't on until I get your response._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Eren_

After checking to be sure no one saw him, Eren placed the letter, folded in its envelope, under his door, just barely peeking out into the hallway.

He proceeded to lie down under his covers, feeling sleepy, but strangely excited, like a child waiting for Father Christmas.

* * *

When he woke, the curtains were drawn, and Armin was lighting the lanterns along the walls.

"Did I really sleep that long?" Eren asked, more to himself than to his companion.

"You missed dinner," Armin answered. "I brought you a plate. And there was an envelope under the door, addressed to you."

Eren bolted up. "Where is it?"

Armin gave him an inquiring look. "On your nightstand, next to your plate. Why are you so excited?"

He was met with a dismissive wave of Eren's hand, a gesture that gave him no option but to roll his eyes and take a seat on his bed.

All too eagerly, Eren opened the envelope, his eyes devouring the words on the page once they'd adjusted to the dim lighting.

 _Mr. Eren Jaeger,_

 _I accept your proposal, and I thank you for your kindness. I do apologize if you find this request burdensome._

 _You've failed to specify what you'd like me to write about, so I suppose I'll start by telling you a bit about myself._

 _I'd rather not share my name, or describe what I look like, but I can tell you that I'm an employee here. I've worked at this inn for quite a while, and I'm satisfied with the life I've built here._

 _My friends are few, but wonderful. I'm actually friends with the maid you speak of, Petra. She taught me to read music and dance. She's very sweet, but I'm sure you've figured that much already. All employees, myself included, see her as a sort of mother figure. We're lucky to have her._

 _My only other friends are a woman named Rico, who is ten years older than me, and a butler named Marco, who is about my age. I'm a rather quiet and stoic person, so the other employees don't approach me often. Still, I know all of their names, and I try to help them when they need me. I don't necessarily care for my subordinates as companions, but I do care for their well-being. I'm not sure why I feel this way; I simply do._

 _Now you tell me about yourself. I won't be satisfied with anything less than what I've told you._

 _Sincerely,_

 _your anonymous acquaintance_

* * *

 _une correspondance aveugle -_

* * *

And so, the letters traveled back and forth, ceaselessly.

* * *

 _My anonymous acquaintance,_

 _You're not going to tell me your name? What do I call you, then? 'My anonymous acquaintance' is kind of a mouthful, don't you think?_

 _I liked hearing about your friends. I think Marco is a friend of Armin's. I've seen them talking at times._

 _I want to be humble and say my life has been uneventful, but that would be a lie. As I'm sure you've heard, Armin and I ended up here after the staff heard us screaming in the river and saved us from drowning._

 _We'd fallen in that river running from what we thought was a pack of wolves, believe it or not. We'd been hiking in the forest for a couple of months, lost, when they attacked us. They must've been hungry; there wasn't much game out there._

 _Before we'd gotten lost- well, there wasn't really a 'before'. The maps we'd brought with us were drafts. We'd gone into the woods to go to Rose's country, hoping some of Armin's family might be living there. His grandfather passed away five years ago, and his parents left him before that, when he was five, never to return. He suggested we go to Rose's country to try our hand at finding them._

 _My life in my village before we left was pretty boring, at least. I'm a woodsman, so I spent my days chopping wood for my father to sell. At night, I went searching for a girl I used to know. Her cousin accompanied me. The girl ran away some time ago, after something awful happened. Her cousin and I, along with my parents, Armin, and some of the townsfolk, miss her a lot. So her cousin and I look for her, every night, even though it's been a while since we've seen her, or even found a clue to her whereabouts. Though I'm sure we'll find something else, eventually._

 _Now you have to tell me something about your home, okay?_

 _Your friend,_

 _Eren_

* * *

 _Eren,_

 _You're very demanding, I must say. Your curiosity seems near insatiable._

 _But I don't believe I can refuse you. You've shown me immense kindness, and now you've offered me your friendship. How could I deny your adamant requests when you've done so?_

 _You may call me Rose. This isn't my real name, but an alias for you to refer to me as. I hope this satisfies you._

 _My home is Le Foyer Inn. Like you, I came here injured from a journey. I do not like to recall why I left for this journey, but I do like to remember all that has followed my arrival here._

 _I stayed as a guest until I recovered. Mr. Smith offered to pay for any further residence I might have had in mind, but I refused him, as that had felt akin to stealing. Instead, I offered him my services as a maid. He accepted them._

 _I hardly spoke then, as I do now. As I stated earlier, many of my coworkers didn't bother to be friendly to me._

 _Petra approached me before any of them thought to do so. She took me on as a sort of student, guiding me through my chores and duties. She repeatedly offered me her friendship as she did so, continually striking up unrelated conversations, practically showering me in compliments, asking me to join her for lunch almost every day. I humored her, but ultimately rejected her. I wasn't very open to the idea of companionship at the time._

 _And then, one night, I had a terrible nightmare. Petra woke me, a glass of water in her hand, and gave me one of her wonderfully secure hugs. I remember all tension leaving my body as she did this, my breathing slowing, as though she had magical abilities of some sort._

 _She let me cry into her shoulder until I felt better. Then she promised me she would stay with me until I felt safe. And she slept by my side until the cock crowed and morning came again._

 _After that, I gave up on pushing her away. She became my best and only friend for quite some time._

 _I will tell you how I came to know Marco in the next letter, but only if you tell me how you sleep._

 _For example, do you ever have nightmares?_

 _Your friend,_

 _Rose_

* * *

 _Rose,_

 _That's a pretty name. I'm glad to call you that, even if it's not god - given._

 _Nightmares, eh? Yeah, I get them. Not as often as I used to, but I still get them._

 _The girl I mentioned before, the one who ran away, usually stars in them. That's all I want to say about it._

 _Other than that, I wouldn't say I sleep well. Since arriving here, I think I've slept better than I have for a long time. Back home, I stayed up late searching for the girl, and I woke early for work. If I was lucky, I'd get around five hours of shuteye._

 _But I've handled it well, I think. I'm a good woodsman, good enough at least to keep my family in business. My father's going to take my place while I'm gone, which worries me. He can't chop as well as he used to. My family might lose some money._

 _Still, since I'm not there to eat all of their food, it all might work out. We'll see._

 _Now tell me how you met Marco._

 _Your friend,_

 _Eren_

* * *

 _Eren,_

 _You seem to spend much of your energy on this girl. If it's really been a while since she left, why don't you move on? I'd hate to think anyone should lose sleep to a fruitless search. Wouldn't it be better for you if you quit searching for her?_

 _Aside from that, I did promise to tell you how I met Marco. So here is his story._

 _Marco has worked at Le Foyer Inn since he was a child. His mother, who was also an employee, conceived him with a guest. The guest left before she knew she was pregnant, failing to leave an address, or even a town where he might be found. Marco's mother died while birthing him. Mr. Smith adopted him, rather than sending him to an orphanage._

 _On his seventh birthday, Marco begged Mr. Smith to let him work as a butler. He had been eager to help since he was old enough to understand how he could. But Mr. Smith refused him._

 _So Marco asked again. And again. And again. Finally, Mr. Smith got tired of it. He relented, and Marco's been a butler for sixteen years, now._

 _After Petra had befriended me, Marco tried to follow suit. Despite being so close to Petra, I still hadn't quite opened my mind to the idea of befriending my subordinates. As it were, I'd already deemed myself unworthy of being Petra's friend. Making any other friends felt deceitful to me, somehow._

 _As a person, I felt worthless. I told myself I was the scum of the earth. That I didn't deserve kindness, or affection. That letting myself accept either of those things made me a liar, or a cheater._

 _So I pushed him away, more forcefully than I'd denied Petra._

' _How selfish can you be?' I kept asking myself. 'How indulgent can you be?'_

 _Then, one day, Mr. Smith came out from his study. He marched right up to Marco and began to reprimand him harshly, in front of the staff and guests. For what, I can't remember, though I do clearly recall the shade of pink Marco's face turned. It made his freckles stand out, as though someone had spilled ink on a flower bud._

 _After that incident, he daren't speak to anyone for the rest of the day, his head hung low. He looked like a dog with its tail between its legs. It was a rather depressing sight._

 _At dinner, I watched him eat alone. And something possessed me to approach him, and then to try and comfort him._

 _It didn't work, at first. He didn't seem to listen to what I had to say, deflecting all my reassurances with dreary, hopeless, self-deprecative remarks._

 _At one point, he said, "I'm a miserable failure." For some reason, this angered me more than anything he'd said prior._

 _I heatedly told him he was not, in any way, shape, or form, a failure. I told him I looked up to him, and that his father had no business embarrassing him like he had, and that he was an inspiring person._

 _My seriousness seemed to get through to him. He thanked me and offered me some of his dessert. I refused him, but he insisted. And after that, I felt I couldn't resist him any longer. We began to talk regularly. I began to refer to him as my friend._

 _I have one more story to tell. It's not nearly as interesting as the last two, in my opinion, but I feel it's only appropriate I tell it, now. It's about how I met Rico._

 _But I'll only tell it if you tell me about this girl you're so obsessed with, and why you don't just move on._

 _Your rather concerned friend,_

 _Rose_

* * *

 _Rose,_

 _If you're really that serious, I guess I'll tell you._

 _I grew up with this girl. Along with Armin, she was my best friend. I was there when her parents died, when Armin left us to be an apprentice, when her cousin adopted her, when she became a delivery girl, and when she killed the man who murdered her parents._

 _I was there when she left, and I was in love with her._

 _I still may be._

 _It would be torturous, Rose, not to look for her. It would kill me._

 _I would much rather live in her memory than in a world where I pretend she never existed, or where I chose to forget her. Because to me, a life without her isn't a life. It's just an existence._

 _Looking for her and dreaming of her is what keeps the light in my eyes, Rose. If sleep is the price I have to pay for that, then so be it._

 _Now. Tell me about Rico._

 _Your friend (who is content with his life choices),_

 _Eren_

* * *

 _Eren,_

 _I didn't expect you to answer me so plainly. Thank you for your honesty and openness. In return, I will tell you about Rico._

 _Rico and I, much like another subordinate of mine named Annie, avoided one another like the plague. I disliked her because she judged me harshly, and plainly told me why, which felt more offensive than constructive. She disliked me because I did not cooperate well with anyone but Petra or Marco, and if given an order, I was- and still am- prone to ask why that order was issued. I have a tendency to act of my own accord; it doesn't mix well with my work._

 _Rico and I often got into arguments, which didn't mix well with work, either. It hurt our performance, but neither of us really cared. We were more concerned with proving one another wrong than impressing our peers._

 _And then Petra stepped in._

 _An old friend of Rico's she somehow managed to convince her to lend me a few of her books. She said she suspected we had similar tastes._

 _When I told Rico I'd finished them, she asked me how I liked them. I had enjoyed them, and I told her so. We began to have conversations over them, conversations I found myself enjoying. I discovered she and I were like-minded people. We began to talk about things other than her books. Now, I consider her a friend._

 _Now that I've told you Rico's and my story, I must confess something._

 _I lied in my last letter, Eren. I do have one more story to tell you._

 _But to hear it, you must meet me in the cellar at midnight tonight. The entrance is just outside the dining hall, a few steps to the left of the door._

 _Should you accept, I will enclose my spare cellar key in my next letter. And I do hope you'll accept._

 _Your rather nervous friend,_

 _Rose_

* * *

 _Rose,_

 _I get to meet you? In person?_

 _What about the person I remind you of? Won't it hurt you to see my face?_

 _What prompted this change? And who is this next story about?_

 _Don't worry; I have every intention of meeting you tonight. I'm just very confused._

 _Love,_

 _Eren_

* * *

A long, golden key fell from the following letter's envelope.

* * *

 _Eren,_

 _Yes, you will meet me in person. I'll even tell you my real name._

 _I will answer all of your other questions tonight. I promise._

 _Love, now is it?_

 _Rose_

* * *

His stomach and throat filled with a furious swarm of butterflies, Eren wrote a note to Armin asking him to wake him for dinner. He placed it on his bed, and proceeded to curl up under his covers.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what his newest friend would look like, ignoring his churning belly and clammy palms, the cellar key tucked safely in his left sock.

Strangely enough, he couldn't seem to come up with a face that fit.

* * *

Armin shook his friend awake just as dinner had begun, as he'd been asked to. Eren practically jumped out of his bed, inciting a startled yelp from his roommate, who fell back onto his own bed.

"Eren? What on earth's gotten into you?" he asked, shaken.

Eren's grin was all too wide. "I," he boasted, "am going to meet her."

Armin lifted an eyebrow. "You mean the person who's been sending you these letters? What, is it a secret admirer of some sort?"

Eren shook his head. "Nothing like that. She's just a friend. But I'm going to finally meet her."

"At dinner?"

"After. Now, let's get some food, shall we?"

Armin, somewhat used to Eren's random, sudden outbursts at this point in his life, didn't bother to ask any more questions. Instead, he merely rose and nodded, following his giddy friend out the door.

* * *

 _les heures sont longues -_

* * *

Time dragged.

Eren scarfed down his dinner, bathed, dressed himself, smoothed down his hair, returned to his room.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He read part of _Treasure Island._

And then he realized he'd read ten pages.

And he'd understood none of what he'd read.

He tried again.

His brain refused.

He tried again.

No luck.

He checked his watch.

A mere sixteen minutes had passed.

It was only half-past ten.

Armin snored lightly beside him.

He tapped his foot impatiently.

Re-opened _Treasure Island._

Strained to focus on the meaning of each individual word.

Eventually fell into the story.

Two chapters went by. Three. Four. Five.

He checked his watch.

Five past midnight.

He sighed. Damn.

Wait.

 _Shit._

Eren fell out of his bed, scrambling to grab his coat and the nearest lantern, and hurried out the door, the cellar key enveloped in his anxious, sweaty grip.

* * *

 _elle semblait familière -_

* * *

It was freezing outside, snow falling in a flurry. It piled on the ground by a few inches, at least.

But the cellar door was clear and completely visible, ice filling in the cracks in its soaked surface. Eren hurried to fit the key in its lock, turning it the wrong way repeatedly before getting ahold of himself and turning it the opposite way. It clicked. His skin buzzed.

He stepped down the ladder, into the dark, shutting the door above him as he lowered himself.

"Hello?" he called. "Rose? Are you here?"

"I'm here," someone answered.

Their voice sounded familiar.

Eren strode forward, peering into the mass of black surrounding him and his lantern.

"Have you been sitting here in the dark this whole time?"

"Yes. I do this often."

He snorted. "Do you, now?"

"I do. This is my safe haven. The dark is…..comforting."

"Comforting? It's scary, to me."

"I can understand that; I used to be the same way. Now, take a seat."

"Where- oh." Eren knocked his knee into a barrel. He sat on it.

"I told you I had one more story," Rose said. Her voice was quiet. Calm. Still.

"Can I see your face first?" Eren asked, curiosity picking at his mind.

"No."

"Can I at least hear your name?"

"No. Not until I tell you the story."

Defeated, Eren slumped against the wall.

"Alright, then. Who's this story about?"

There was a pause.

And then, silently, almost inaudibly, Rose answered him.

"You."

* * *

 _notre histoire -_

* * *

Eren's brow furrowed.

"You invited me down here just to tell me how we met?" he asked, his voice dripping incredulity. "Why?"

"Because you don't know how we met," Rose answered simply. "Now, do you want to hear my story?"

Thousands of questions flurried in Eren's mind. Hundreds bubbled in his throat, so ready to make themselves known.

But he didn't let any of them out.

"I'll hear it," he said, and did not speak again.

Rose took a deep breath.

And then proceeded to tell their story.

"When I was seven years old, early one morning, I tried to climb a tree in my family's front yard," she said. "It was an enormous tree. I thought that if I could get to its top, I could see the entire village. I might even meet a bird or a squirrel on my way up.

"I had barely made it halfway up when a branch, a rather thin one, snapped below my foot. I grasped for the branch above me, terror seizing every inch of my body, but I'd already started to fall. I screamed until I hit the ground. All the wind was knocked out of me. My arm burned like it was on fire. I'd broken it.

"And some little boy from my school ran up to me as I cried, his face twisting in panic. He asked me where my parents were, and I said they were still asleep, in the house just to our right. He ran inside and woke them. They burst out our front door and carried me to the nearest doctor.

"The little boy followed them. I slipped in and out of consciousness, catching bits of my parents insisting he go home, bits of him stubbornly saying he wouldn't. Not until he knew I was safe. He held my good hand tightly, even as the doctor worked on my arm. Even when I finally fell unconscious for good.

"When I woke, my arm was in a cast. He was watching me with these bright, curious eyes. I asked him what his name was. He smiled at me. He was missing one of his front teeth. He said his name was Eren Jaeger."

Eren rose, his throat tightening. "There's no way-"

"I'm not done. Sit down."

He sat.

She continued.

"It didn't take me long to love him. He was always showing me something strange he'd found, always running around excitedly, always burning brightly with this insurmountable passion, the likes of which I'd never seen before. A few years after I'd met him, I began to think that this was the boy I wanted to marry when I grew up. I felt silly and romantic for thinking so, but that didn't make me feel any different.

"And then my parents were taken from me. And all I could think anymore was that if I dared to love him, or anyone else, they would be taken from me, too. So I tried my best to keep my heart silent, and my mouth shut. So God wouldn't know. So God wouldn't take him away.

"But God didn't have to do anything; I took him away from myself. Once I'd become a murderer, I realized I didn't deserve him, anyway. I realized I would only drag him down. I may have been going to Hell, but I'd be damned if he were to follow after me. And I knew he would, if I let him. And I knew I'd let him, if I were to indulge myself and stay with him.

"So I didn't. I ran. I left.

"And, after months of stumbling through the woods, I finally found Le Foyer Inn. I was sick, wounded, and starving. They let me in and took care of me. I recovered, became a maid. I thought that I could rebuild myself here. That I could baptize myself, somehow. That I could start anew.

"And then, years later, I'm awoken to help two men that have just been pulled from the river. One fair, one dark. Both painfully familiar. I ran away, retrieving Doctor Zoe, and stayed away from them. My friend Petra would come back to check on me, and she would tell me how they were faring. And within the hour, she told me the darker of the men wouldn't make it.

"I hurried to him, pressing my head against his chest. His heart wasn't beating right. I pressed my palms against his chest, hoping to resuscitate him. I didn't stop until I heard his heart beating rhythmically, calmly. He eventually opened his eyes. I ran from his line of sight, and told him to rest. He did.

"He was sick, but alive. I cried when I heard the news. And when his friend- my old friend- was gone, and he was asleep, I would visit him. I would sing to him. I missed him so much.

"A week or so later, he left his room. He nearly saw me; I had to hide in the kitchen when he was eating his lunch. I went to his room, tidied his and his friends' beds, and left a letter to him, asking him to make himself scarce. And, to my shock, he responded with a deal. A deal I was all too happy to make.

"In one of his letters, he said a life without the girl he'd lost wasn't a life at all. And I realized I felt the same way about the boy I'd left behind. And that's when I decided to stop hiding."

There was a long, disbelieving silence.

Then she said, "You can look at my face now, if you want."

* * *

 _son visage -_

* * *

With a trembling hand, Eren lifted the lantern, rising on shaking legs to step forward.

The dim light revealed a nose.

Lips.

Cheeks.

Eyes.

A whole face, framed by hair that was much shorter than Eren remembered, that was so, so heart-achingly familiar.

His vision blurred, became watery. Tears spilled onto his cheeks. He sobbed.

"Mikasa."

She smiled sadly, curling her lips inward, holding back tears of her own. She rose. Reached behind her. Wrapped an old, stained cloak around her shoulders. Donned its hood.

Eren threw his arms around the girl in the red riding hood, dropping his lantern, crying loudly, his entire being aching.

Mikasa began to sob, as well, the sound a broken, heavy thing, one that crumpled her face and dug her head into the crook of his neck, that spasmed throughout her stomach and cued a quiet whimper from her lips.

They sounded like children.

And they didn't care.

He didn't care because she was here, she was real, she'd come back to him. This was her, the girl he'd kissed in the creek, the girl that had given him nightmares, the girl he'd spent years scouring the woods for. This was the person he called home, the person he loved most in the world, the person he was sure he'd lost forever, wailing into his shoulder, clinging to him now, and she was alive and present, and she loved him.

She didn't care, because all she could think was that God did not hate her, that God did not seek to take him from her, that she'd been forgiven for her sins. He'd come to her. By coincidence, by joyous miracle, he'd returned to her, and she didn't know how else to express the soaring feeling, the absolute gratitude, the irrevocable ecstasy singing throughout her soul but to cry like she was dying, like someone had shoved her into a fire. He was here, with her, alive and well, holding her to him fiercely, and he loved her. He still loved her.

* * *

 _rouge -_

* * *

Red was not a color to him. Red was not a thing at all.

Red was a person. Red was a feeling. Red was a spirit.

Red was her.

She was every pulse in his heart, every petal of every rose, every brick of every hearth, every drop of blood the world had spilled, every ounce of humanity's passion.

She sat above the sun as it rose. She followed it as it set.

* * *

 _red -_

* * *

Red was more than just her color.

Red was the feeling of his lips on hers, his fingers threaded through her hair, his tears on her tongue.

Red was the aching in her chest, the pounding of her heart, the unsteadiness of her hands.

It was the warmth of his skin. The fire in his lantern. The dim light decorating the floor as it defied the darkened room around it.

It was her cloak, stained and tattered, but present. Crumpled and hidden for so long, but not forgotten.

It was her life source. It had been, for all these years. It spread itself to Eren, to Armin, to Levi, to Mr. and Mrs. Jaeger, to Petra, to Marco, to Rico, to all her subordinates, and, finally, from all these people to herself again.

It was love.

* * *

 _Je, je vais t'attendre la._

 _Viendras tu por moi?_

 _Je vais t'attendre la._

 _Seulemont toi._

 _Only you._

* * *

 _\- time -_

* * *

How easily, how swiftly it passes. Like it has no regard for its father, the human. It is an apathetic and calculating thing. It rarely slows down, or speeds up. It is nearly as pitiless and cold as Old Man Winter.

But the girl in the red hood could've sworn that, in the following months, time strolled along casually, without a care in the world. Just as a final favor to her and her woodsman.

Upon their reunion, Armin had fainted, certain he was seeing a ghost. When he came to, he cried his eyes out. He blubbered for nearly an hour about how much he'd missed her, his face so pink and messy, Eren was sure he was drowning in his own tears.

Then he read through her and Eren's letters, not quite able to believe he'd missed this exchange so obliviously. And the three of them sat and caught up, sharing stories on the floor of the boys' bedroom until the sun rose.

After that, Mikasa agreed to return to the village with Eren, once spring came. Armin decided he'd join them, saving his search for his family for a later date. Having Mikasa back was enough for now, he told them. And he was more or less terrified of the idea of traveling through the woods alone.

They spent the rest of the winter together, and neither Eren nor Armin could recall a time when Mikasa had smiled so much. It startled her coworkers, and delighted Marco, Rico, and Petra to no end.

* * *

The snow melted away eventually, leaving patches of muddy grass behind it. Flowers began to spring up from the ground. Guests began to fill the inn.

The time came for Eren, Armin, and Mikasa to leave.

Petra, Marco, Rico, Doctor Zoe, and Mr. Smith himself came to see them all off.

"Promise me you'll write," Petra begged, sniffling. "Promise me."

Mikasa nodded, her lips turning upward in a bittersweet expression.

"Of course I will," she promised. "How could I not?"

"Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Smith," Armin told the innkeeper, shaking his hand. "I'll find a way to repay you. I swear it."

Mr. Smith grinned. "The only payment I seek, Mr. Arlert, is your answer to a question I've been meaning to ask you."

Armin frowned. "What would that be, sir?"

The innkeeper reached into his coat, pulling out a familiar book. He opened it to a page annotated in two different types of handwriting.

Armin turned pale.

"Oh, that- I apologize, sir, I-"

"What does she look like?"

He paused. "Sir?"

"Death. What does she look like? Since you remember her face so well."

All meekness left from Armin's face, replaced with wise contemplation.

"Well, sir, she is terrifying. Ugly, to say the least."

Mr. Smith's grin widened. "I agree, Mr. Arlert. But you know something?"

"What's that, sir?"

"I, personally, would not pay _every_ possible expense not to see her again. There are some things I'd rather keep. Neither Greene nor I are naive or inexperienced; we just have something worth dying for."

The younger of the men turned to his companions, who were laughing at something one of them had said.

"In that sense," he said, "I think I feel the same way."

* * *

 _home -_

* * *

Completed maps were quite helpful, as it turned out.

A mere month after their departure, Eren, Armin, and Mikasa found themselves in their old village, with surplus supplies and less than a few scratches on their skin.

And home was so much more beautiful than Mikasa remembered.

The trees sprouted new leaves. Birds settled back into their nests. The soil was damp and rich; countless sprouts broke through it to greet to world. They were eager to begin their lives, to feel the sun on their leaves for the first time. Mikasa couldn't blame them.

Her old house hadn't changed much since she'd left it. Eren and Armin stood behind her as she knocked on the weathered door, practically bouncing in anticipation.

A short, sour-faced man opened the door.

Saw her.

Saw them.

And, wordlessly, wrapped them all in the tightest embrace he could muster.

"Welcome home," he whispered.

Mikasa found herself crying, yet again. She wondered if she'd ever stop.

"I'm glad to be back."

* * *

 **AN: Part 5 of 5.**

 **And with that, I finish my first story ever. I want to thank everyone who's read this; I've never put so much effort into a story before, and this one's gotten very, very few notes, but I'm grateful for those that have seen this, and have enjoyed it.**

 **I also want to thank** **natiwati** **again for betaing me. I know it definitely wasn't easy, and that I'm not necessarily the easiest person to work with- me and my stubborn ass- but she was still an amazing editor, never sparing me advice, praise, or in-depth input, and I'm irrevocably grateful for her. Please, guys, if you enjoy my work, check out hers- it's 1,000 times better. It's a privilege to read her writing, and an even greater privilege to be called her friend. Thank you for all your help, Nat. 3**

 **And to reiterate, this story was, in fact, inspired by lolakasa's great art, as well as the newest reboot _Jane Eyre_ and _Sacred Heart_ by The Civil Wars. All three of these things combined in my head to form many of the concepts and much of this story, and this wouldn't have been possible to write without them.**

 **Please reblog and/or review (in or AO3)! Until next time! :D**


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